Secret Cravings After Hours: A Steamy Erotic Romance Novel with Intense Passionate Sex Scenes

Secret Cravings After Hours

A forbidden office romance that turns into raw, addictive lust – steamy erotic romance at its hottest

Honestly? I didn’t plan on fucking my project manager. Not even close.

But Kai had this way of looking at me across the open-plan floor—like he already knew exactly how my thighs would feel wrapped around his waist. Three months of late-night Slack messages, accidental brushes in the kitchenette, and him murmuring “good work, Elise” in that low, gravelly voice that made my panties cling uncomfortably.

He’s thirty-four, stupidly tall, sleeves always rolled to show those corded forearms, and smells faintly of cedar and clean sweat even at 7 p.m. I’m twenty-nine, still pretending I’m only staying late for the promotion. Bullshit. We both know why the office lights stay on longer every week.

Last Thursday the typhoon signal 8 hit. Everyone bolted home except us. Power flickered, rain lashed the glass like it was trying to break in. Kai locked the meeting-room door behind him without asking.

“You’re soaked,” he said, nodding at my white blouse now basically transparent.

I laughed, nervous. “Yeah, well, umbrellas are for quitters.”

He stepped closer. Heat rolled off him. “Take it off before you catch a cold.”

Not a question. My fingers moved before my brain caught up. Buttons slipped free one by one. Black lace bra stark against pale skin. His gaze felt physical—dragging over my nipples that were already tight little peaks from the air-con and pure nerves.

“Fuck, Elise…” His voice cracked just a little. First time I’d ever heard him sound anything but controlled.

He closed the distance, big hands framing my face, thumbs stroking my jaw. Then his mouth was on mine—hard, open, tongue sliding deep like he’d been starving for it. I tasted mint gum and the faint bite of black coffee. My hands fisted his tie, yanking him closer. He groaned into my mouth, the sound vibrating straight down to my clit.

He walked me backward until my ass hit the long conference table. Papers slid. Laptop almost toppled. Didn’t care. His palms cupped my breasts through lace, squeezing roughly, thumbs flicking my nipples until I whimpered against his lips.

“Been thinking about these for weeks,” he muttered, dragging his mouth down my throat, sucking hard enough to mark. “How they’d feel in my hands. How they’d taste.”

He shoved the bra cups down. Hot wet tongue circled one nipple, then teeth grazed—sharp enough to make me gasp. My back arched. Wetness flooded between my legs, soaking through my thong.

“Kai…” My voice sounded wrecked already.

He dropped to his knees like it was nothing. Hiked my skirt, yanked black lace to the side. Cool air hit my dripping pussy and I shivered. Then his mouth—fuck—his mouth. Flat tongue licking a slow, broad stripe from entrance to clit. I cried out, fingers tangling in his thick black hair.

He ate me like he was angry about how good I tasted. Sucking my clit hard, then soft fluttering licks, two thick fingers sliding inside, curling against that swollen front wall while his tongue worked relentless circles. My thighs shook. The wet sucking sounds were obscene in the quiet room.

“Come on my tongue, baby,” he growled against my folds. “Let me drink you.”

I shattered. Hard. Hips bucking, pussy clenching around his fingers, slick coating his chin. He didn’t stop—kept licking through the aftershocks until I was whining, oversensitive, pushing weakly at his head.

He stood, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes dark and wild. Belt clinked. Zipper rasped. His cock sprang free—heavy, veined, tip already glistening. Thicker than I’d imagined. My mouth watered.

“Turn around,” he ordered. Voice rough. “Hands on the table.”

I obeyed. Bent over, skirt bunched at my waist, ass presented. He kicked my ankles wider. Blunt head nudged my soaked entrance, then he thrust—deep, one brutal stroke that stretched me wide and knocked the air from my lungs.

“Fuck—tight,” he hissed, fingers digging into my hips hard enough to bruise. “So fucking perfect.”

He didn’t go slow. Slamming into me, balls slapping my clit with every punishing thrust. Table rocked. My tits bounced free, nipples grazing cold wood. Pleasure coiled tight again—too fast, too much. His hand slid around, rough fingertips finding my swollen clit, rubbing fast messy circles.

“Gonna fill you up,” he panted against my ear. “Mark this greedy little cunt as mine.”

The dirty words tipped me. I came screaming his name, walls pulsing, milking him. He groaned low, hips stuttering, then buried deep—hot thick spurts flooding inside me, so much it leaked down my thighs when he finally pulled out.

We stayed like that a minute—his chest pressed to my back, both breathing ragged. His lips brushed my shoulder, softer now.

“This isn’t ending tonight,” he murmured. “You know that, right?”

I smiled, still trembling. “Good. Because I want your cock again tomorrow. And the day after.”

Since then it’s been every stolen chance—supply closet handjobs, his fingers inside me under the desk during Zoom, hotel rooms on “business trips,” his apartment with floor-to-ceiling windows while the city glitters below us. Each time rougher, hungrier, more addicted.

Because the dirtiest secret isn’t that we’re fucking behind closed doors.

It’s that neither of us wants to stop.

Craving more intense passionate sex scenes and forbidden office lust? This hot erotic story is only the start…